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#can't believe i wrote this much
crystalflygeo · 10 months
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How to train your dragon ft Zhongli + fem!reader
cw/tags: dom bottom!reader and subtop!zhongli YEEAAAAH WE DOING THIS BABES. Collaring/Leash. pet play. primal play. praise kink. bit of shibari at the start. oral on reader.Zhongli has dragon features (horns/tail/tongue) but only 1 dick this time tho//hit.
notes: I ABSOLUTELY BLAME @zhxngii BECAUSE SHE AWAKENED MY INNER DOM. I DIDN'T KNOW I COULD DOM??? //HIT also @silentmoths bc together we brainrotted this idea I am so fucking WEAK for petplay dcbhbchjkancjak //rabid horny crys noises.
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Light breathy moans escape your lips as you shift slightly against the bed headboard, back arching and biting your lip at the heated pleasure.
Your spread legs twitch a little as you groan, right hand tugging just slightly at the leash held in it. "Hng... fuck, t-that's a good boy..."
The pull of the collar around Zhongli's neck makes him press even closer against your pussy, licking and sucking more insistently at your wet folds. Long hair cascading down his back, though some strands drape around his shoulders and tickle at your skin.
You keen, free hand gripping so hard at the bed covers your knuckles turn white. The man buried between your legs dives in with as much raw passion as a certain determination. With his arms tied behind his back, Zhongli tilts his head for a better angle and his nose presses against your mound, sinful long tongue drawing wet stripes along your core and flicking at your clit, teasing the little pearl and earning him more of your sweet sounds.
The sight, coupled with the hot, wet slide of Zhongli's mouth steadily surrounding you, buzzes like electricity under your skin, leaving your fingers tingling and pooling more fire in your core.
"S-so good for me..." You can't help but roll your hips towards him, searching for that delicious friction. "So well trained and behaved hmmm-"
His long dragon tail sways after him at that.
Working his tongue sinuously against you. Each fluttering motion sends sparks up your spine, until your heart is pounding in your chest in anticipation and your head is swimming with arousal. Zhongli snakes that long dragon tongue inside you, probing carefully and slowly at your insides and feeling you clench. The motion has your thighs trembling and you let out a loud whine, unconsciously tugging at the leash again on reflex. Heat screws directly into your gut, surging with each swipe and flick of his tongue, dragging in and out of you, the wet muscle reaching deeper every time. Each little noise that falls from your mouth seems to spur him on, increasing his speed until your toes are curling at the sheets, body taut with pleasure.
"Yes, yes... oh! Ooohh... m-make me cum... and I'll let you- hng- fuck me. You want that don't you?" You coo, free hand releasing the sheets to instead curl around one of his golden antlers.
The reaction is instantaneous as Zhongli purrs. 
"F-Fuck!" Waves of pleasure crash down on you at the vibrations against your sensitive folds, cresting higher each time, and you toss your head back. Skin burning, muscles trembling, breath stuttering until every sensation peaks abruptly with an obscene shuddering moan, leaving you helpless to keep from coming in Zhongli's mouth.
Distantly, you feel him growl against your pussy, retracting his tongue to slurp and lick at your juices instead like they’re the sweetest ambrosia.
You ride out the flood of heat, gasping for breath as your body slowly melts into relaxation, and when the tide recedes, you blink the dots out of your vision and look down to see the dragon lapping gently at your core, cleaning up your arousal. “Good boy...” You rasp, letting go of his antler to card your fingers along his dark hair, fingers massaging idly at his scalp.
Those bright golden eyes stare up at you with adoration and your heart flips in your chest.
Zhongli nuzzles at your inner thighs as you enjoy the fading glow of your orgasm before you start shifting and tug gently on his collar to make him pull back. He lets out a huff.
You sit up and surge forward, cupping his face in your hands. "Hmm, you really are so good for me, aren't you?" You nuzzle at him, planting kisses around his cheeks, his nose, his jaw. He sighs and relaxes, tail once again wagging after him. "My beautiful beloved dragon..." You nip at his neck and he inhales sharply. From the corner of your eye, you see his large erection twitch. Straining against his stomach and drooling tacky precum, the head flushed in a lovely dark color.
"Well, we made a deal, didn't we?" You whisper against his skin as your hand lowers down to rub against his length, giving him a couple of lazy strokes as he lets out a mix between a whine and a moan as his hips buckle against your hand. “You earned it…” You coo at his ear.
Even though he could have shredded them apart at any time, he lets you painstakingly undo the knots at his arms and unwind the rope from them. You rub and massage a little at the wrists and muscles, leaving another kiss at his forearm as he flexes them a little. In seconds you find yourself caged under his larger frame, pressed against the bed and crossing stares with him.
His golden eyes are feral, simmering under his skin you can almost feel the scales flickering to life, to burst free. The dragon claws and howls within its cage, every instinct carved within his ancient bones demanding he take action, demanding freedom from the confines of his mortal guise.To take him mate and claim you, breed you. 
And yet he stays still. For you. Hanging on your words.
You stroke your hands along his skin, before going up and curling a finger around the collar, appreciating the lewd contrast of the black color against his skin. You fidget a little with it. “Do you want me to keep the leash on or not?” You ask coyly. “You can speak.”
“Anything you want.” He replies evenly.
You chuckle. “I am asking you though, this is your prize after all…”
He bends down a little until his forehead rests against yours. “My prize is you. In any way you’d have me.”
Your breath hitches at the sincerity and pure desire in his words.
“Keeping it on then…” You say, giving a quick peck against his lips before you shift and roll over, pulling a pillow closer to your chest, burying your cheek on it as you stare at him over your shoulder, hand pulling at said leash just a bit.
He straddles your legs and you feel his cock rub against your ass. His hands at both sides of you with one of them intertwining his fingers with yours.
“Now… give me a good fucking, my pet…”
You feel a clawed hand guiding your hips and finally, the blunt head of his cock prods at your entrance. Zhongli shoves forward and you gasp as he slips inside. Your walls stretch to accommodate him and you moan low in your chest from the steady drag, head falling forward. He doesn’t stop until he’s fully seated and you shiver at the sensation of being so full.
The hand at your hip slides underneath to press against your stomach and the sound that escapes you is pure sin. Zhongli seems to like it, since he presses harder and his hips jerk, shifting his cock inside you, giving aborted little thrusts and eliciting another high-pitched whine.
“D-don’t- Don’t tease me-!” You jerk the leash. His chest pressing against your back. “Behave.”
Zhongli nips at your shoulder and growls.
“Don’t get an attitude with me or I’ll change my mind.”
Zhongli grumbles low in his chest and your chuckle is cut short as he quickly pulls out and slams forward again before you can even process, you’re empty.
“Fuck-!”
Detaching from your back, he holds your hips again and thrusts once more, using his grip to drag you back against him, holding you there so you can feel every inch of his cock filling you up, rubbing and touching you so deeply it was too much and simply not enough. You gasp and whine, eyelids fluttering. Zhongli slides out, then back in, gaining speed with each tantalizing stroke until his pelvis is slapping loudly against your ass.
Every thrust snaps an electric spark as the dragon practically mounts you, rocking you against the mattress until your thighs are trembling and you’re muffling your moans and squeals against the pillow. Zhongli is panting above you, each rasping breath rattling with a gusty exhale, catching on the growl building within his chest. Blood pounding in your ears, heart rattling as his pace chases even faster, reaching a desperate frenzy; The hot rigid length filling you over and over again blurs into a steady, burning stream of sensation.
You let Zhongli use your body like a feral animal in rut, every thrust punching out a pitiful noise out of your lips, stars dancing in your eyes and heat surging until you’re nearly incoherent with it, drooling against the pillow.
Your trembling hand yanks weakly at the leash and his pace stutters, you call out to him with a whine, teary eyes begging at him and he surges forward in an open-mouthed kiss, filthy and clumsy with how you both are worked up right now.
“Good-” You choke out against his lips. “T-That’s a good boy, Li-”
He growls with satisfaction, losing his even rhythm as his thrusts become sloppy, recklessly slamming in and out of your warm heat. His tail wraps around one of your legs.
“Such a good pet for me-” Your nails dig into your palms, one of them tangled with the leash, the other held by Zhongli’s for dear life. “Come on… come on, Li… c-cum inside me-”
The dragon slams a few more times against you before burying himself completely inside, going rigid as a loud groan tears out through gritted teeth. You all but mewl at the familiar feeling of his hot cum seeping inside you, body shaking with your own release as the heat climbing through your body overflows with a blinding flash.
You whimper and whine as you ride the dizzying wave of pleasure, vision blurred, mouth hanging open.
Once the peak ebbs away, you’re left with trembling limbs and a heaving chest, sagging on the bed exhausted.
Zhongli gingerly slides out making you moan softly at the now unpleasant emptiness, your combined fluids running down your legs. You twist sluggishly onto your side and pull him down not by the leash this time, but by wrapping your arm around his shoulder. He presses and nuzzles against you and you let out a breathy tired chuckle. “Good boy…” You mumble.
He intertwines your hands again and pulls them up to kiss at the back of your hand, then your knuckles. “Hm… I do believe no one had ever called me those names before.”
Had you not been so tired, you’d be more embarrassed about the whole ordeal, but right now you can only manage a bashful smile. “Well… did the mighty lord of geo enjoy being my pet?” You ask, fingers tracing the black collar around his neck.
“I did.”
“You want to… try it again sometime?”
“If you want to.” He replies, his gaze warm and affectionate, scanning your face searchingly. “Did you enjoy it, my dear?”
You avert your eyes, a blush finally creeping in your face as the adrenaline washes off with the calm atmosphere. “I… really did.” Your hand moves up from the collar to his cheek. “You’re always so good to me, Li.”
“Hm, I simply love you. My mate…” Zhongli leans in close, the tip of his nose tracing a path along your cheek.
“I love you too.” You close the few inches of distance between your lips and kiss him, slow and meaningful.
He kisses back immediately, sinking into it with a low, throaty croon. Suddenly you find yourself on your back with him pushing you into the mattress, the leash and strands of his hair dangling over your sweaty skin, and his hips rolling up to yours.
You swat at his shoulder playfully. “No! Bad dragon! Insatiable-! That’s all you get!”
Zhongli chuckles, deep and rich voice making your heart skip. He nuzzles into the space between your shoulder and neck once more before pulling back and sitting up on the bed. “Let’s go take a bath, then.”
“Oh, so we’re back to you giving the orders? You’re still wearing the collar, you know?”
“I suppose I am. In that case, whatever my sweet mate demands…”
“A bath sounds good.” You chuckle. He nods and stands up, you get only a few seconds to admire his body before he picks you up, ignoring your squeal, and heads over to the bathroom. Hopefully, only to get cleaned up…
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I've been reading Exodus lately and I've just gotten to the portions where God gives the first commands to the people via Moses (twice), and then goes on to give detailed instructions about the tabernacle and how it should be built, and I'm just... we think art is unimportant?? we think things only mean as much as their functionality?? we so easily fall into the trap of believing that beauty means nothing, that it's cheap and only worth whatever mindless distraction it brings, that it's barely more than a cheap sensual thrill, that buildings should just be practical and plain and cheap, that everything should be functional but ultimately disposable, that paintings and dresses and mugs and curtains and carpets are just pretty but have no real value, that beauty is fleeting and vain and therefore shouldn't be thought about too much, if even looked for at all... we fall into these traps so easily, and we forget that there are chapters upon chapters of painstakingly detailed plans to build one portable worship tent, and those plans have been handed down through thousands of years of human history, because beauty and art and skill in craft is important
#I have to go get ready for work now but I will come back to this#and don't even get me started on the parts about God calling specific craftsmen *by name*#he called them!! by name!!! he said 'this man is good at his job. he creates beautiful work. he will build my temple and make it beautiful'#and even more--God inspired him!!!! it was a calling of GOD for him to create beautiful carvings and tapestries and candlesticks!!!#look even if you're not jewish or christian or religious at all you have GOT to see what it means that all these incredibly detailed plans#for building this tent-temple are extremely important#because even if you don't believe in God and don't think that this is all significant bc he personally gave the instructions#and then helped preserve this record of them so we could still read them today#you do have to see how important they were to the people of that time who first wrote them down#and the extreme care that was taken to record all of those detail#AND the fact that it's been preserved for so long and we can still read all the care that was put into creating this incredible piece#of artwork and worship they made#gurt says stuff#I just. gahhfhhfj. I'm feeling emotional about chapters of the Bible that I can't even fully force myself to pay attention to#bc there's so MUCH and I'm bad at visualizing this stuff and I tend to zone out while listening to it#but the fact that it IS that much!!! that there SO MUCH DETAIL and it goes on for SO LONG that I even struggle to pay attention!!!#that this was THAT IMPORTANT to the people who wrote it and to God!!! as an artist and someone who has always cared about art#this means so much to me ok#christianity#bible verse#bible thoughts#exodus#art#theology
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xx-thedarklord-xx · 5 months
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In the past two months alone, I have written 200k words for my Advent Month and I am blown away by that. Then I realized that this year alone I've written 500k words and I think that's one of my biggest years of writing ever.
Just wanted to say thank you to anyone that has read something of mine. Whether you liked it or not, I appreciate you stopping by. I'm thankful for all of the comments I get and I'm also thankful for all the silent readers that cheer me on despite me not knowing. I feel it though, so thank you! Thank you all for a wonderful year of Drarry and a wonderful year of writing!
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chodzacaparodia · 5 months
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Wait wait wait is Barou kinda concerned about Nagi??
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Notice his change? He says he's not as annoying as before? Did he kind of… care??
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Of course, later he treats him with typical King Barou's harshness, but isn't that somehow his motivation speech?
After all, Nagi in a similar way (of course in a much gentler way compared to Barou, but still very cold), he treated Reo and Bachir, which later contributed to the change of these guys:
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In both cases, after Nagi's words, both Reo and Bachira found motivation to try even harder.
And now, Barou treated Nagi in a similar way. He communicated in the same way that Nagi had used before. With words which could change a person.
I hope that Barou's words will trigger Nagi and allow him to find the motivation again.
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boyfridged · 13 days
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What do you think about bruce wayne?
that is such a broad question… but i guess i rarely talk about bruce specifically, in isolation. and i love bruce dearly, despite despite despite… despite the fact that it took me so long to get there even, because for years of reading dc comics he was a nuance to me. but i am now tremendously interested in bruce wayne. i have a soft spot for pre-crisis bruce, his geniality and zest, that easy affection. but i’m also interested in bruce of the “dark” post-crisis era, and where their personalities meet at…
so i’m interested in bruce wayne who took the idea of “grief work” too literally. in how he invented a myth for his tikkun olam and did it wrong. and hence in a myth that grows hungry and implicates others in tragic cycles. in bruce wayne whose kindness makes him project on people that would be better off without it. all to say, i’m mostly interested in how batman sees a man, dead in crime alley and thinks: that could be me. my beginning and my probable end. and who ought to rectify that opinion later, by admitting he thought he’d be a victim of his own mission, but it was his son instead.
his biggest trouble: he perfected the vigilante-civilian lives compartmentalisation, but it lasted no longer than a few years, only for his newly-found family members to enter the picture and mess his brilliant system of identity split… because with children, there’s no dichotomy - they will be his in cowl and out of it, and there will be a price to pay. and bruce realises that, when his abandonment issues also come into play - when he pushes his sons away to protect them from a life of his own invention.
i want these narratives to be complex; i want stories in which his love, just as his grief, gets ugly. and his grief, just as his love, becomes graceful and merciful. however that quote went, about being like gd -- loving everything/everyone and therefore nearly no one/nothing. not a comparison too out of place, since the whole world bends to his personal story.
but i also want the real, breathing thing, ordinary. i want bruce wayne a socialite that truly enjoys high society, as per old canon, that bristol man who drags his body through gotham whole, one with it and yet separated through the numbers in his bank account. i’m interested in bruce wayne rich and a rehabilitationist and therefore worryingly liberal-leaning-conservative. bruce wayne and his stupid, soft robes, and reading glasses, and barbecue parties, and that mini-golf in his WE office, having all of that while playing an every-man.
but that doesn’t answer the question, does it- i suppose what i think of bruce wayne is that: he’s wrong about nearly everything but that love matters. and he's most compelling when put in opposition to leslie, who reads him like an open book and thinks of him: a monster of her own.
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neverevan · 5 months
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Snippet Sunday 🎿
I was tagged by @daffi-990 @jamespearce9-1-1 @hippolotamus and @jeeyuns thank you my dears 💛
Since the ski fic is getting posted a few days before Christmas (the plan is Thursday but we'll see how editing goes) here's just one more snippet until then. 🫶
Eddie was pulled from his thoughts by a pair of ocean blue eyes blinking at him sluggishly. “Hey,” Buck croaked, his voice thick with sleep. “Morning,” Eddie whispered back softly. He could get used to this, he really could; waking up in the same bed as Buck, having Buck’s face be the first thing he sees in the morning, maybe even sharing a few lazy morning breath kisses or sleepy blowjobs if they felt like it… That’d be nice. “What time‘s it?” Buck rubbed at his face in a halfhearted attempt of becoming more alert. Eddie smiled at him and unable to resist the urge, he ran his fingers through Buck’s messy curls, swiping them away from his forehead. “Almost six.” “That’s early.” Buck mumbled with a quiet grunt, letting his eyes flutter shut with Eddie’s touch. It would’ve been so easy to just lean in and plant a kiss onto his lips. So, so easy. “Yeah… you can go back to sleep if you want, I’ll wake you up before seven.” Eddie murmured, his fingers still tracking over Buck’s scalp, now without the pretense of fixing his hair and just for the feel of it. “Nhm ’s okay,” Buck shook his head, pressing his cheek deeper into the pillow — and consequently his head into Eddie’s palm. “I’ll be up in a minute. Just… stay.” And Eddie’s hand went still and Buck’s eyes flew open and suddenly everything came into sharp focus. This was the moment they both had to decide what they wanted and Eddie was just about to open his mouth — though he was still unsure of what would come out of it — when they heard a quiet knock at the door.
✨no pressure tagging: @malewifediaz @spagheddiediaz @eddiebabygirldiaz @disasterbuckdiaz @nmcggg @thewolvesof1998 @watchyourbuck @theotherbuckley @fortheloveofbuddie @ladydorian05
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dangans-ur-ronpas · 26 days
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Chapter 20
alright guys hit the showers. or the bathhouse. wait hold on i left my computer boy in there. guys wait don't open that
SEE HERE FOR GENERAL WARNINGS AND FIC SUMMARY
Some pre-chapter notes:
wow i wrote 10 pages for chapter 19 but i better take it easy so i dont burn out (writes 11 pages for chapter 20) anyway guess who's taking a break after this chapter
this is the one with togiri development but they're extremely not normal about it so it's almost blink-and-you-miss-it
@digitaldollsworld <- betapilled readmaxxer
Content warning tags: mild violence and injury description (non-graphic), description of depression symptoms and nausea, mild mention of eating disorder
< previous - from start - next >
He’s not sure how long he sleeps for, only that he wakes up still-dressed and laid out across his bed, his mouth dry and head groggy, the bedroom lights still on. As he checks his handbook’s clock, he finds he’s entirely missed Monokuma’s morning announcement, which is a good thing; he had no desire to listen to that bear’s irritating voice, especially not today.
But, he doesn’t have much desire to do anything else either. The library no longer feels like the safe haven it used to be, and he had no interest in going anywhere else and running into anyone else, when the atmosphere was still thick with the deaths of two people, and pity that Byakuya didn’t want. Much less, the possibility of encountering Makoto, who was the last person he wanted to see, so to speak.
He lies in bed a moment longer, unwilling to move. Everything feels sluggish, like he’s moving underwater; even his head feels stuffed full with cotton and wool. It's a strange, unfamiliar feeling, and unpleasant, too.
Grief. He thinks blearily at first, before rolling his own eyes at the thought, and pushing himself up with a grunt. Such dramatics didn’t suit him. He wasn't the kind of person to spare such theatrics, regardless of his circumstances.
He showers, brushes his teeth, and half-debates whether to try his hand at shaving before ultimately deciding against it (it didn’t feel like his stubble should be that noticeable, yet). He forgoes changing into a clean uniform in favor of his pajamas, and collapses back into bed with a sigh, hand searching immediately for his handbook - but finding nothing but empty sheets.
“Hello, there!”
He jerks upright immediately. Standing in the foot of his bed is Monokuma, rocking back and forth and looking as innocent as could be. Or, would be, if not for the handbook clutched in its paw.
Byakuya dives for it without thinking, but his perception is off, and he crashes to the carpet instead with a grunt. Monokuma sidesteps him casually with a laugh. “Whoa, there! Easy partner, don’t wanna hurt yourself!” It dances around his head, infuriatingly out of reach. “Didja miss me that bad? If you wanna hug, you can just say so!”
“Give it back,” He snarls, as he picks himself up. He’s in no mood for its jokes. “Give me back my handbook!”
“Your handbook? My my, but these were all mine first, weren’t they?” It shakes a paw disapprovingly in his face. “I just need to check it real quick, after all. I didn’t expect Mister Fujisaki to go and Macgyver anything onto here, so if it’s anything malicious, I’ll have to do a quick wipey-wipe!” Byakuya makes another lunge, and it juggles the handbook out of his reach, hopping backwards with a mad cackle. “After all, if it’s anything naughty, there’s no way I can let it fall in the hands of my precious students!”
“You miserable little-” Byakuya tries to rise to his feet quickly, but he hasn’t eaten since yesterday, and a bout of dizziness crashes into him like a wave. He sways and braces himself against the mattress, one arm still reaching out clumsily to try and grab at Monokuma.
But the bear has already flipped it open, scrolling so quickly through the screens that the little automated voice can’t keep up, the words blurring together. “Schoo-Stu-App-Day-”
“Whoops, too far.” It scrolls back. “Applications, that’s what we wanna see. And, what’s this?”
Byakuya feels his blood run cold. There was only one application there, the one Chihiro had downloaded for him. Alter Ego. The app was inconspicuously named ‘Test_App’ in the interface itself, but if Monokuma opened it-
“Well well well. Let’s take a look-see!” It crows, and Byakuya’s protest is frozen in his throat. He shuts his eyes, expecting to hear Chihiro’s voice-
“Black to E5.”
He opens his eyes again. What?
Monokuma also seems confused, tilting its head as it stares at the little screen. “What’s this? A chessboard?”
“Black to E5,” Alter Ego repeats, so digitized and monotone it was nearly unrecognizable. “Would you like to review the board?”
“Is this all it is? A chess game?” Monokuma sounds almost disappointed. Byakuya, seeing his chance, surges forward, snatching the handbook back and snapping it closed. He presses it to his chest, feeling his heart thud beneath it.
“Is that a problem?” He demands, and Monokuma shrugs, shaking its head.
“I guess not, but I thought it’d be something spicy, y’know? You’re a growing boy, after all!” It reaches out to pat Byakuya’s knee, and he steps backwards just in time, lip curling in disgust. “Aw, don’t act so mean to your headmaster, you’ll give me a complex!”
“Get out.” He hisses. “You got what you came here for. Leave.”
“Oh, alright…you sure know how to make a bear feel glum...” It sighs, kicking at the carpet, before it makes its way to the door. “Take care, now! Make sure you eat something, y’hear? I don’t want any hunger strikes in this house! And-”
No sooner had Monokuma crossed the threshold, had Byakuya jumped up, and sped forward to slam the door with a resounding bang. He takes a moment to breathe, leaning against the wall, legs suddenly weak.
How the hell did that thing get inside my room? He was sure he had locked the door - or he should have locked it, at least. Looking back, he actually can’t remember, but he double and triple-checks now, suddenly paranoid. He also flips off the light for good measure, leaving the room in complete darkness before he crawls back into bed.
Beneath the covers, he opens his handbook, and squints until he can make out the pale green shape of Alter Ego’s face on the screen.
“Is he gone?” Alter Ego asks, and Byakuya relaxes, the tension flooding out of his shoulders.
“Yes.” He whispers back.
Alter Ego makes a sound like a sigh of relief. “I’m glad. I got so scared when he grabbed me.” And its voice sounds so much like Chihiro's that Byakuya feels a strange pressure behind his eyes.
“How did you know?” He asks. “That Monokuma was there?”
“I could hear it. Through the microphone.” He reaches up and touches the tiny pinprick grid of the speaker, and feels the buzz of Alter Ego’s voice against his fingertips. “I didn’t want you to get in trouble.”
“Don’t worry about me. I think he would’ve just deleted you as punishment for me anyway.” He sighs. And then frowns, as a thought comes to mind. “If you could eavesdrop from the microphone this whole time, then you already know…?”
He doesn’t finish his sentence. But he doesn’t need to. Alter Ego makes a quiet noise like a sigh. “Yes, I know.”
“I’m sorry.” And he’s surprised to find that he means it genuinely, and almost laughs at himself. Heartfelt apologies were rare for him, and here he was offering one to an AI, of all things.
“It’s okay. He knew it might happen,” Alter Ego replies, and he imagines it might be smiling, a sad, helpless smile. “There’s nothing we can do about it now.”
“No, I suppose not.”
They’re quiet for a moment. In the darkness, Byakuya can almost pretend that he’s normal - unable to see in the dark as everyone else is. But it’s also the middle of the day, and he’s too restless to sleep, too uneasy to go outside. Too tired to mourn. Too mournful to do anything else.
“Can you really play chess?” He asks instead.
“I can, along with checkers, shogi, and backgammon and more.” 
“Play a round of chess with me, then. I’m bored.”
“Okay!” Immediately, the pale blot of their face on the screen is replaced by a square. “I’ll play black. What’s your first move?”
He smiles to himself. “E2, pawn to E4.”
Hours pass like that. He plays chess with Alter Ego (three wins, four losses, and seven draws), and a few rounds of shogi (one win, one loss, and two draws) for good measure. And then, huddled over his desk with his back facing the camera, he pores over lines of Dostoevsky and Nietzsche until he feels too sick from staring at the letters to even hear Alter Ego’s voice, reciting the words aloud beneath a dim ringing in his ears.
By the time he’s pulled out of his concentration by the sound of a knocking at his door, he’s too nauseous to feel hungry, but his throat is stinging from lack of water and there’s a slight pulsing in his head. His immediate first reaction is to ignore it, but that proves to be impossible; whoever was on the other side was clearly, very persistent, and had nothing better to do.
Even so, he lasts a full five minutes until he finally gets up to answer, irritated beyond measure. If it was Makoto, he was going to slam it closed again, reasons be damned. He didn’t even want to think about the other boy, lest he get pointlessly enraged about it.
But instead of brown hair, he’s met with pale white. Kirigiri stands at his threshold, hand partially raised, halfway through knocking, and they stare at each for a moment in silence, as if both surprised to find the other person there.
And then he slams the door shut in her face. Or tries to - instead of the satisfying bang of wood meeting wood, there’s a sickly crunch, and then she’s wrenching the door open, heedless of the way her fingers had just been crushed in the jamb. He almost winces in sympathy, but she’s too busy pushing her way in to offer much room for condolences.
“What is wrong with you?!” He demands, trying not to be too obviously perturbed by her lack of reaction; he doesn’t think he even heard her wince. She ignores him for a moment, attention focused on her hand, as she experimentally clenches and unclenches her fingers. Apparently they’re not broken, or maybe, she just had high pain tolerance. Or she was more insane than he thought.
“We’re calling a group meeting,” She replies, without so much as a waver. “Come to the bathhouse.”
“And why should I?”
“It’s important. I can drag you there if I have to.” It doesn’t sound like an empty threat either. Somehow, she seems impatient, though he’s not sure how he can tell; and it wasn’t just because she shoved her hand into the door in order to deliver the message.
He weighs his options - on one hand, he has no desire to speak with anyone, much less Makoto, who was bound to be there. On the other hand, he didn’t exactly have anything in the way of provisions in his room, and though he was still a little too light-headed to consider eating, it’d be embarrassing to collapse from dehydration at this point. That, and it seemed that Kirigiri had no intention of letting him refuse.
“...I’m going to get dressed first.” He says shortly. If he’s going to have to meet them, it will not be while he’s still in his pajamas.
“Hurry up.”
She makes no move to leave, and he realizes with no small amount of annoyance that she was making sure he wouldn’t be able to run or shut her out again. Somewhat affronted by this, and now wanting to go even less, he grabs a clean set of clothes from his dresser and goes to the bathroom.
Routine carries his hands through the motions, so he manages it relatively quick, but it’s only after he’s applying the finishing touches, that he nearly pokes himself in the eye as he reaches to adjust his glasses. It’s a strange sensation, feeling the bridge of his nose and finding nothing, and even though his original prescription was low and they were more an accessory than anything, he feels a little like he’s lost a limb.
She’s still there when he emerges, though now standing over his desk, bent over the books he has open. She looks up as he approaches, one hand halfway through turning a page.
“What?” He asks, chin turned up in challenge.
“Nothing. Just looking.” She closes the book, and he realizes, scandalized, that it was the one he was reading earlier. It was going to take him ages to find that page again. “You have predictable tastes.”
“Shut up. Are we going or not?”
He follows her out, his hands twitching all the while, smoothing down his shirt, his lapels, his sleeves. Making sure his buttons were lined up, that his shirt was tucked; he hadn’t had the time to put on garters or even try a hand at his tie, and he feels underdressed.
“You’re fine.” Kirigiri says suddenly, and he freezes, one hand resting on the button of a shirt cuff. “Stop fidgeting.”
He scowls. He was walking behind her, so what would she know. “I’m not fidgeting.”
“I can hear you fidgeting. Your buttons are fine.”
“Oh, can you hear my buttons now too?”
It’s a petty, childish remark, one that he can’t stop himself from muttering before he can even reconsider it. She stops at that, halting so suddenly in the middle of the hallway that he almost walks right into her, and turns around to face him, her head moving in a slow tilt from up to down - scanning me, he realizes - before she says: “You look fine. Are you quite done?”
She was checking for me. He’s not sure if he should feel grateful for the courtesy or irritated by her lack of grace. “Did the sound bother you that much?” He asks instead, patting down the front of his shirt one last time.
“...It wasn’t the sound.” Is all she says, with a sort of finality that indicated that no other questions would be answered on the topic.
They enter the bathhouse, and find everyone else there, gathered in a sort of semi-circle around the wall of lockers. Asahina and Ogami, predictably, are huddled close together on one of the benches. Celeste and Yamada sit on another bench, one fidgeting uneasily, the other sitting regally with legs crossed and hands folded. Hagakure is standing next to Owada, who doesn’t even stir when they walk in, and who Byakuya ignores in turn, gaze sliding past him uncomfortably. Fukawa hangs near the back of the group, and twitches when she sees him, though makes no move to approach.
Makoto is leaning against the lockers with hands tucked in his pockets. He looks up as they enter, and stands up straight immediately. “Ah-”
“We’re all here?” Kirigiri cuts him off, casting a glance around the room. “Good. Can you catch him up, Hina?”
“R-right,” Asahina looks between Kirigiri and Byakuya, then at Makoto, and seems to hesitate for a moment. “Um, so…last night, I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d go to the kitchen to get food. But on the way there, I heard something coming from the bathhouse - like, a weird, machine-y kind of sound? - and when I went in…”
She peters off. He raises an eyebrow, “And?”
“Uh, it’s going to sound a little ridiculous...”
“You act like nothing else is ridiculous about this situation. Get on with it.”
Her face flushes dark, embarrassed. He gets the feeling that Ogami is glaring at him, but since he can’t see it - and has no reason to act like he can see it, anyways - he ignores it easily.
“Right. I saw a ghost - I know it was a ghost,” She adds defensively, as Byakuya was preparing to scoff and roll his eyes. “It was glowing green and floating in front of the lockers, and…and it had Chihiro’s face.”
“That’s-” not a ghost, he’s about to say, but he stops, suddenly uncertain. The bathhouse had no cameras, but he wasn’t sure if Alter Ego’s existence should be revealed here, now, to everyone, especially given some of the individuals present. His hand reaches into his jacket pocket, where his handbook was. “That’s…and you’re sure it was Chihiro?”
She seems taken aback by how seriously he asks that, and nods quickly. “I know it was Chihiro! It was his face and everything!” She points in front of her, at a locker less than two meters away from her eye level. The exact locker, Byakuya thinks, where Chihiro was keeping his laptop.
He wonders if Makoto was thinking this too.
“...I highly doubt the existence of ghosts,” He sighs. There was no point trying to hide it with Kirigiri around, and better to do it now than later. “Instead of being in front of the locker, I think the thing you saw was inside it.”
He turns to the locker Asahina had indicated, and moves to unlock it - before realizing he doesn’t know how. If it was unlocked by key, he didn’t have it, and if by code it was even more impossible. But Kirigiri steps forward, nudging his arm out of the way, and the locker door clicks open under her hand.
Sitting inside is the laptop, its screen dark. After a moment, it hums to life, flickering green. A round, pale shape forms, and behind him, Byakuya hears someone gasp.
“Hello,” Alter Ego says, and their voice is clearer through the computer than through Byakuya’s handbook, and sounds so similar to Chihiro’s that it’s almost jarring. “It’s nice to meet everyone!”
Hagakure shrieks, arms thrown up in fear. “A g-g-gh-!”
“It’s not a ghost,” Byakuya cuts him off sharply. “It’s a program.”
“Yes, and it looks like something Chihiro made.” Kirigiri touches the keys lightly. “This computer was the broken one from the library. And the fact that it was placed here, out of sight of the mastermind, means that it was meant for us.”
“So, this is what I saw last night…” Asahina’s tone doesn’t sound uneasy anymore, but wondering, and she raises a tentative hand as the little Chihiro in the screen waves at her. “But, what is it?”
“You just asked, ‘what is it,’ right?” Alter Ego says, almost teasingly, making her and several others jump. “The short answer is, I’m an AI program based on as much of Chihiro Fujisaki’s personality, memories, and thoughts as he managed to transcribe into data…um, but if it’s easier for you, you can call me Alter Ego. I was made to try and break through the firewall around the school’s network and to analyze the files on this computer, but it’s been taking a long time. I’m only about 25% done.”
25%? That was already more than Byakuya expected, and he feels a thin, inexplicable strum of pride.
“Crazy…hey, isn’t this crazy?” Yamada is up from his seat, and sitting as close as he can, crouching on his heels to be eye-level with the screen. “This is so- so totally sci-fi, right? Isn’t the genre wrong?” He sounds excited, overly so, and his breath is a little fevered and fast. “Hey, Chihiro! Can you hear us?”
Alter Ego doesn’t respond. Byakuya suddenly remembers the night that Chihiro was installing the application on his handbook and how Alter Ego only ever responded after the sound of keystrokes. “You have to type what you want to say in order for it to respond.”
“Move.” Yamada scurries out of Kirigiri’s way, as she drops to a crouch in front of the open locker. There’s the sound of fingers clicking over keys, and then -
“It will take me a while longer to finish analyzing everything,” Alter Ego says aloud, a little sheepishly. “I can definitely finish it though! Actually, progress is moving faster than originally predicted, so you can leave it to me!”
“My, how dependable.” Celeste remarks. “It seems that Chihiro has left us an invaluable gift, does it not?”
“It’s…pretty crazy,” Hagakure agrees, scratching his head. “Wait, uh - can Alter Ego get online? Like can we call for help from outside?”
“Hmm, probably not.” Asahina hums in thought, crossing her arms. “We’re in a bathhouse after all.”
“Then, if we take it outside of here-”
“No.” Kirigiri says flatly. “We can’t take any risks. Taking it outside might mean that the mastermind will discover it.”
“Yeah, but, I think it’s better to get help sooner than later. You know…” He pauses for a moment, tilting his head pointedly towards Owada. Throughout this whole time, the Ultimate Biker Gang Leader had been as still as a mouse, face turned downwards towards the floor. Hagakure clears his throat awkwardly. “Can’t we try it?”
There’s a sharp tap as Celeste laces her fingers, rings clicking together. “As stated earlier. We cannot take unnecessary risks. And we are not in the position to be pointlessly altruistic.” Her tone is casual, but Hagakure seems to shrink away from her, defeated.
“I…okay. Fine, sure.” He scratches at his head, then pauses. “Ah, wait a minute. Does Alter Ego, like, know…?
His question peters off, but the implication hangs over them like a heavy fog. Byakuya watches them cast uneasy glances at each other, then back to Alter Ego, as if trying to figure out who should break the news.
“It already knows.” He mutters. He’s not trying to be loud, but in the silence everyone could hear it anyways.
“...Not to say you’re lying or anything, Byakuya, but how do you…?”
Instead of answering Hagakure out loud, he reaches into his jacket pocket and withdraws the handbook, flipping it open and holding it up, screen facing them. Someone gasps.
“Yes,” Alter Ego confirms their unspoken question, and its voice echoes uncannily, doubled between the laptop and his handbook. “Master made it so I can be accessed through Byakuya’s handbook, so I could assist him with his visual impairment. I can also access the microphone function on this device, so I was able…I was able to overhear what happened”
The little, buzzing voice trails off sadly, and Byakuya suddenly feels uncomfortable, as the room grows all the more dreary. He clicks the handbook closed, suddenly irritated.
“That should explain it.“ He sighs. “Chihiro built Alter Ego to try and help find a way out of here, and at the same time gave me access so I could be self-sufficient. That’s the extent of my knowledge about it.”
He looks up and finds nearly all of them with their faces tilted towards him, and shifts, disconcerted. “What?”
“Nothing…it’s just kinda sweet that you’re, like, telling us this yourself.” Hagakure, ridiculously, sounds almost happy about this. “You never really talked to us about yourself before.”
“There’s no point in being secretive about it. Not when I was already forced to reveal it during the trial.” He sniffs. Immediately, Hagakure looks away, chagrined. From Byakuya’s periphery, he can see Makoto still facing away, his ears turning pink.
Kirigiri clears her throat. “...For the time being, it’s clear that we need to ensure Alter Ego remains a secret from the mastermind.” She says, and Byakuya watches as she types something out, a thick line of black characters. Every few keystrokes, she stops, and deletes the last word in a series of light clicks; listening closer, the sound was awkward and irregular, each press slurring into the next key. With a slight twinge of guilt, he realizes that the cause of it was her left hand - the one he had practically crushed.
After a moment’s consideration, weighing his conscience with what was at stake, he nudges her slightly with his knee. “Move. You type too slow.”
“And how would you know that?”
“I can hear it.” He replies flatly. “You type like you’re all thumbs. Move over.”
He half-expects her to stay where she is, to ignore him and continue, but to his surprise she actually complies, standing up and stepping aside. He crouches into the space she had just abandoned, sliding his hands over the keyboard until his index fingers find the tiny, tell-tale grooves of the position keys. The size and dimensions are different from his computer at home, but for a moment the feeling is so familiar that he’s almost nostalgic.
“What did you want to ask again?”
“If it has any contingency measures in place for if Monokuma - or the mastermind, or anyone suspicious - happens to find it.”
His fingers skim over the keys, clicking fluidly. A thin line of black appears at the bottom of the screen in time to his movements, but he can’t confirm if the output is accurate; judging by the way Makoto gasps behind him, and the way Hagakure whistles, he can guess that it’s more or less correct.
“Impressive,” Celeste says, in an appreciative tone. “I suppose being such an esteemed heir means you have many talents.”
He can’t tell if she’s mocking him, so he decides to ignore her, though he allows himself a small amount of smugness. He finishes typing: “Is this what you wanted to ask?”
Instead of replying, Kirigiri leans over his shoulder and clicks the ‘enter’ button. After a moment’s pause:
“Hm, to be honest, so far I’ve just been trying to be reeeally careful with when I’m active…though I guess that backfired last night, with me scaring Aoi.” Alter Ego hums in thought. “But, I do have a secret plan! If anyone comes around who I don’t recognize on my webcam…I’ll scream super loud!”
“That’s so basic!” Asahina blurts out, shocked by the simple nature of it.
“Yes, and it’s not likely to work at night.” Ogami grumbles. “The bedrooms are soundproofed.”
“Maybe we can try taking turns staying up?” Makoto suggests. “I can take the first night, I don’t mind…”
“I think such a sudden change in our patterns is likely to draw suspicion from the mastermind. Which would be rather counterproductive.” Celeste says, and Makoto ducks his head immediately. “Though, your thoughtfulness is appreciated.”
“Then it can’t be helped.” Kirigiri sighs. “I’ll leave my door open. I’m at the end of the hallway anyways, so if anything happens, I should be able to react the quickest.”
What a crazy woman. “You’d leave yourself vulnerable?” He scoffs. After all the precautions he’s seen her take, it’s hard to imagine her sacrificing herself to any degree.
“It’s a risk I’m willing to take. Besides, I’m not so helpless. I have no intention of going down without a fight.” She pauses, mouth open like she’s about to say more, before she decides against it. “Anyways. We should avoid any mention or contact with Alter Ego as much as possible, to draw as little attention as we can.”
She claps her hands sharply, a sound that makes more than one person jump, and makes Byakuya almost flinch. “For the time being…let’s disperse.”
< previous - from start - next >
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incarnadinedreams · 9 months
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I frequently see people saying that the list of traits Jiang Cheng gave to the matchmaker are "impossible standards", ridiculous, unreasonable, outlandish, absurd, nobody could ever possibly meet them, etc.
Anyway the translation that's up on the wiki is:
His requirements in his partner are: naturally beautiful, graceful and obedient, hard-working and thrifty, coming from a respected family, cultivation level not too high, personality not too strong, not too talkative, voice not too loud and must treat Jin Ling nicely.
First off, the list comes from a random trivia answer MXTX gave in an interview, not the novel canon. So whether you even consider it canon at all is up for grabs to begin with. Though I think there was a scene in CQL with a similar list so it would be canon there, minus the Jin Ling point (due to the point in the story the scene was set)? (So I believe the matchmaker blacklisting point still wouldn't be CQL canon though, just the list?)
But if you do take it all as a Super Serious Canon Thing, well... to be honest I just don't think that list is at all unusual, given the setting? I believe many of the points in the list are just traits considered generally good for ladies of the time period (intentionally vague as that time period may be). (I am absolutely not an expert though so please correct me if I'm wrong about that.)
To me it seems that it's not that they're unusually high or unattainable standards, they're just so generic that they're sort of unhelpful. That he has like no idea what he wants at all outside what he's supposed to want.
The only points that actually seem to have any specificity are things like cultivation level not too high. Which some people could interpret negatively, and fair enough. But personally to me that seemed more like a flashing neon sign of 'please someone not like my mother', given her strength in cultivation was one of her defining traits (and something that he may have felt led to her disappointment in him). Even though Jiang Cheng may carry forward some of her traits himself (for better and for worse; this is not a YZY hate zone but there's... a lot there), he does seem to have at least given some thought to choosing a partner to counter some of the pain points of his own childhood and aim for something different (and we see him trying to do that himself in specific ways as well, like his staunch support of Jin Ling when he was crying after the Second Siege, even if he doesn't always fully succeed).
And, of course, 'must treat Jin Ling nicely'. Which seems obvious and not like a big deal at first, but I think actually could reasonably be a big sticking point in a potential marriage. My understanding is that he was wildly more involved in Jin Ling's life than a maternal uncle would normally be. Including this as a specific requirement seems to send a particular type of statement, as if it was important to him that any potential match would not take offense to him treating an orphaned child that wasn't his with a lot of attention and gifts and favor... hmmm, how could he have possibly decided that could be a problem in a marriage...?
(Obviously, the scenario would be very different than his parents' - none of the salacious rumors and the humiliation that came with them that really drove a deeper wedge between YZY and JFM - but he was obviously going to be doing a lot more for Jin Ling than an average uncle so it makes sense to have that be a specific point upfront.)
I'm ultimately in the 'it was MXTX making a joke and not meant to be taken nearly this seriously' with a side of 'the clan leaders of this generation aren't in a hurry to get married because MXTX just didn't feel like writing their wives in and also it was funny' camp so I think there's a limit to how much insight can be gleaned from this, you know? It is fun to play with it in-universe and explore the implications on the society and political system going forward in the decades post-canon, but I do try to keep myself from taking it too seriously when it's clearly not a well-thought-out plot point or anything, just a fun offhand jokey trivia bit.
But I like the vibes of it all well enough to accept it as 'semi-canon' or 'canon enough' for myself anyway because I think the 'must treat Jin Ling nicely' point is cute and the rest is just standard for the setting and the blacklisted by matchmakers part is funny, and I'm much more willing to subsume random bits from interviews into my brain's blorbo blob if it's something funny.
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alkalinefrog · 2 years
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Electricity wires are down Rainbow colours fading to brown Adventurous smile shifting to frown Courageous boy, now you’re a clown Your Antarctic hair, off with the crown Your spirited friends, now a ghost town You run... [x]
Jack from OTNWAS
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Unnecessary discussion about Chat Noir and the Drums
There’s something I love so much about Chat playing the drums in Horrificator. This is something that’s been on my mind since I was 13, so hold on here.
First, obviously, Adrien also plays the piano - which obviously still has a lot of meaning!! - I’m not here to diss on the piano, there’s a lot of freedom of expression in every instrument type and music expression in general, but there’s a reason why some people are more inclined to different instruments, and I think there’s a lot more to it than just sound, but feeling as well. The role you play. How it feels to play it alone vs. playing it with others, if it’s typically something that you can play alone vs. in a group.
So first, the piano, and how I think it relates to Adrien’s character, plus how it relates to those points.
The piano, let’s be real, is something that a lot of us were forced to take lessons for at some point. It’s something that has ties to high society (there’s a HUGE discussion and so much more to say about that, but let’s not go there) and honestly?? I think it works pretty well with symbolizing the obsession with perfection that Gabriel shoves onto him. I’ve known many piano players, and while some genuinely loved playing it, it was always easier to somehow stumble onto someone with a deep hatred for it after being forced into lessons. Whenever I asked them why they hated it, I got almost the same answer every time: “I need to be perfect.” (Along with people saying that they were forced to lol)
Then there’s the role you play. You can play with people in a band, an orchestra, as an accompanist, a duet, at a bar with a bunch of people singing - whatever - music has many forms, and many different connections. But the piano is something you can play solo, no need for anyone else. It isn’t what you can do with other people that I’m focusing on for this, it’s the fact that you don’t need anyone. You can play alone, and it’ll still be fine. You can be alone, and you’re still fine - perfect even - which is something that Gabriel shoves down his throat, resistant to him playing with his friends by touching on this ideology.
Which is a glimpse into how he sees Adrien, and how Adrien experiences life. He can be alone, in fact he’s more perfect when he’s alone. And when other people are added, the attention to his perfection is taken away bit by bit, until he’s not good enough. He has to play solo in concert halls, on stage for everyone to watch, not in the back of a bar, playing with his friends.
Alright, so now we move to Chat Noir and the drums. The main play of this fake essay. 
It would be so easy to just ignore everything and just go “haha, he’s the energetic one, so ofc Ladybug gave him the drums! And they’re an easy instrument to play, etc.” but that’s far from the truth.
Ok, so I’m not a drum player or percussionist in any way, but I am a bass player, and genuinely love the drums so much because they’re incredibly important, and here’s my cheesy analogy: the drums are the heart of the band, keeping everyone on beat, it’s what you feel at the centre of it all. The band is nothing without the drums, without the percussion (The bass is what connects the band to the beat of the drums, kinda like the blood vessels, but sadly this ain’t about bass).  Like do you know how easy it is for a band to fall apart if they don’t have a drummer??? You need a drummer. You literally can’t survive without a drummer, because even if you manage to work together, use the bass as a backing, whatever you try, there’s still not much of a heart left.
But besides that, do you know how hard it is to play the drums??? You can’t just throw someone crazy, or energetic there just because “crazy drummers lol” you need someone who listens. Who can set the beat. Someone you can rely on, because they are the person in control, even if they aren’t as flashy as the guitar player. Reliable is the word that comes to mind. The drums can make or break a band.
And wanna know who that reminds me of?
Yeah. I highly doubt that the writers put this much thought into a random five second scene in an episode of season one, but it fits with Chat Noir SO well. 
Unlike the piano, the drums are almost solely played in a group setting - you need other people, and other people need you - he needs other people in his life, his friends are needed, but they also need him. Ladybug needs him, along with all the other heroes in Paris, whether he sees it or not. He seems to get in a state of thinking he’s not needed, but i do really think he’s the emotional glue that keeps the team connected, the heart that keeps them beating. If he’s isolated, he can’t quite reach his full potential that he can when he’s allowed to be around others, just like they can’t reach their own without him.
But on top of that, I think the stereotypes of the drums actually works in his favour for the next part. 
Breaking free from his dad, and being his own person, letting that fame go and embracing what he wants... well, to some that would look stupid. 
Relating it to music, the piano is flashy, you can play it solo, it sounds impressive, looks impressive, and people won’t think you’re just hitting pots and pans in the garage when you say you play it. But the drums are underestimated, a lot of people think you don’t need much practice, that they’re just the guys who sit at the back of the stage, not doing much, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.
Just like Adrien finally being who he wants wouldn’t be stupid, it could never be stupid, but there’s a stigma. But letting go of his flashy, solo life, and being the heart of his friend group is something that I think makes him truly happy as Chat Noir, and hopefully he gets to be like that as Adrien too.
Like Plagg said, Chat Noir and Adrien are both the real him, and I think the drums capture that perfectly. The heart and freedom, the meticulousness (rather than perfection) and steadiness, those are good qualities of a drummer.
I dunno, I just think it fits.
(sdfghjklkjhgf again I should state that acoustic versions of songs exist, and you can play songs without a drum and it sounds fantastic, but I’m not going into that today. Just talking generalization, and playing in a group setting). 
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eerna · 7 months
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crashes my fist against the table. the way Ali has been Nahri's weakness since the beginning, no matter the nature of their bond. Ghassan saw her once and went "oh yes she will adore my famously unlikable son which will make my exploitation easier". she can't help but let herself be led by his optimism and dreams of justice and he is so happy someone appreciates him the way he is that he just holds onto her even stronger. no amount of ancestral hatred and prejudice and distrust could compete with that chaotic resonance and everyone around them could only stop and stare in horror
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I can't actually get over the yamqn ff,i constantly think about them being able to end up as a happy family yk with their child and how Beomgyu would play with their child and adored it so much.😭Do you mind writing a really short darbble about this if u have some time of course
"Mommy, I made tea for you."
"Oh, you didn’t have to, baby. Thank you!" You gush at your son, taking the cup from his hand so he wouldn't spill it.
"Drink it. Drink it!" He sings as soon as you take it from him.
"Okay." You laugh, not failing to see the eager, mischievous look on his face as he watches you take a sip--a look that is all too reminiscent of his father's own boyhood. And soon when the take a sip and a bitter saltiness hits your tongue rather than the sweetness that would be expected, you’re not surprised in the slightest but you sure do act like it for you son's benefit.
"Yuck! What is that?" You make an exaggerated grossed out face and the light airy giggles your son lets out are something he definitely inherited from you. It's Beomgyu's favorite as he has told you many times.
"It's--it's--SALT!" Your son hiccups through his laughter.
"Aw, I can believe I fell for that." You lament dramatically, and that's when Beomgyu comes back to the garden where you and your son are seated.
"Fell for what?" He asks curiously and you give him a silly pout. "Your son put salt in my tea."
"Ohh, the old salt instead of sugar trick. Classic. Respectable. But there is much better ones I can teach you." Beomgyu tell your son and you gasp, fake affronted. "Don't you dare, Beomgyu."
"Oh yeah, and who is gonna stop me?" He asks, picking your son up. "If I take him somewhere you can't hear us and tell him all teach him all the pranks he coule play on you, how are you gonna stop us?"
"Like this!" You shout, shooting up and running towards them to grab them.
"Daddy run!" Your son screams and Beomgyu doesn’t hesitate, taking off into the garden with you hot on their heels, guided by the sound of your son's tinkling laughter.
"You'll never take us alive!" Beomgyu shouts back at you, and you don't miss a bit. "Makes no difference to me."
"Daddy, she's gonna kill us."
"Don't worry, baby, I have an idea." Beomgyu tells your son breathlessly, and heads towards the lake.
"Beomgyu, don't you dare!" You shout at his back but he doesn’t listen to you, running towards the water and jumping it, wading further into it with your son tucked against his chest.
"Twenty years later and you’re still jumping into the dirty water and ruining your nice clothes. You never change, huh?" You scold Beomgyu, no heat behind your words and Beomgyu shakes his head.
"No way. Not when I have a new partner in crime." He lets go of your son who swims in circles around him. "Come on, join us for old times' sake."
"Yes, mommy, come in. The water is so nice."
"I don't know. I don't want to get all wet." You hesitate. The water does look nice but you don't feel like getting your clothes soggy and having to go back home to take a bath.
As you think, you pay no mind to Beomgyu swimming closer to you until you’re within the splashing zone and then pelting you with water, drenching your clothes.
"Well, you're already wet." He shrugs, an easy devious smile on his face that mirrors his son's earlier one.
"Oh, now I'm really gonna get you." You growl, jumping into the water and chasing after your husband, your son's excited screams flying up into the heavens
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turts in skirts :}
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inrainprose · 4 months
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“Yes, Kenta is fine,” Kim answered on automatic, caught off guard. “He works at the garage. And he lives with me.” And how did that happen, huh? It made some kind of sense, for sure. The others had offered too, but they had history with the man that Kim had not. Kenta thought they would be uncomfortable with him around and had just offered out of politeness or something. That’s how he had made it sound anyway. The same way he had implied that it was best if he stayed out of the kids’ sight, for their sake. "Why do we never see him?” After everything, Kim takes Kenta in. He might be overinvested. He just wants the man to smile.
Been utterly obsessed with Pit Babe lately, so have 11k of a ship that shared the screen once in 10 episodes so far.
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littlehaize · 2 days
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can't believe i'm actually writing a long fic
haven't done that in years
i have no plan, i barely have ideas and clichés
i go with the vibe and feeling
dbh fandom, be scared, i'm arriving
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kenobihater · 3 months
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you ever write up a combination of words you're really proud of at the time bc you think it's vivid but it's actually so atrocious that you remember it eight years later bc it's burned itself into your long-term memory? just me?
#i'm literally laughing my entire ass off rn. i can't believe i found this fic i wrote at 15 and orphaned when i came to my senses abt both#my complete inability and total aversion to writing first person as well as the fact that the english language should never have been#subjected to its words being done dirty like this 😭#also i straight up fucking LIED in the authors note??? i said i'd broken my knee as a kid which is categorically false. i fell down some#stairs and banged it up and it's a tiny bit weak ig but i didn't break it? all any teens born after y2k know is eat hot chip and lie...#still not over the first line... the flip flop bit i remembered but i'd COMPLETELY forgotten 'a shriek seeped out of my throat'. girl. what.#how does a shriek seep exactly? the world may never know...#and the use of 'groped' is also sending me 😭 AND 'crash bash whump thump' girlllll send help holy shit i can't stop coughing & laughing#the rest of the fic isn't quite this bad but it's very purple yet ineloquent and rough. it's a good reminder of how much i've improved and#honestly i'd rather read this utterly amature fic bc it's at least charming in its lack of skill rather than infuriating like some of my#oneshots that are still on my page bc they're more comprehensible but just bad enough to make me cringe. getting mad at this oneshot would#be like getting bad at a kid's stick figure drawing. like. it's just kinda cute to see someone starting out on their creative journey#my old sw oneshots on the other hand are like the awkward growing pains of puberty. you just can't help but wince at the reminder#this is okay to reblog btw bc it's objectively hilarious and i don't mind ppl finding humor in it#len speaks
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